I think I’ve lost my flirting/interacting-with-human skills. I present to you this scene from my life. Imagine me doing a dramatic reading, in which I play both myself (pubescent boy voice) and the the cute baristo (low, gravely, exhausted-from-having-sex voice).
Baristo: What can I get for you?
Me: I’m still deciding. I’m very indecisive. I have trouble making decisions.
Baristo: The best ones are.
Me: Hmm? Haha…thanks…? (squints to see menu on board.) I also have trouble seeing.
Baristo: What are you in the mood for?
Me: I need a lot of energy today. But not too much energy, because I actually have nothing to do.
Baristo: How about a latte?
Me: Well, I’m sort of lactose intolerant. I’ll eat dairy sometimes, but it wreaks havoc on my digestive system. Like, I’m not going to not eat ice cream every day. I have ways of dealing with the gas.
Baristo: (looks at hand)
Me: I want something middle road. Middle of the road. Ground? Middle ground? The metaphor is escaping me. I guess I don’t want too much energy, but just enough.
Baristo: How about an Americano?
Me: Fuck it, I’ll go with a ham sandwich.
And here’s how I imagined the conversation going:
Me: Oh hey. (flips hair, smiles, has symmetrical features)
Baristo: You like Pavement? I could tell because you give off a sexy, 90’s aesthetic. Pavement is my favorite band.
Me: You’re kidding! (laughs, has a size 2 waist). I love Pavement.
Baristo: We should probably date.
Me: That sounds great. I’m really busy–working on all my artistic projects and finding kindly ways to turn down all the men who are obsessed with me–but I should be able to make the time.
Baristo: Here’s a free ham sandwich.